


I'll darn you back together when you think that you are bereft

by Elisexyz



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e11 Going Home, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25556587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: “Look, I know you’d probably rather chew your arm off than talk about it—” He acknowledges the comment with a snort. “—soI’m just gonna—sit here, and give you a hug, okay?”Or AU in which Rumple still sacrifices himself to kill Pan, but no curse is cast. Purely so that Neal can have five minutes for a breakdown that, let's be honest, has been a couple of centuries coming.
Relationships: Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan
Comments: 133
Kudos: 28





	I'll darn you back together when you think that you are bereft

**Author's Note:**

> How many times have I said that Neal needs a good cry? Too many. YET, I have done nothing to rectify the situation. Well, that ends RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW. I’m doing it.  
>  So yeah, that was my melodramatic way of announcing that I’m finally letting Neal cry over his shitty life (and more specifically over the fact that his father just DIED). And he's getting hugs from Emma. That’s it, that's the fic. (With bonus Regina because she and Rumple have a Very Weird relationship that I couldn’t help hinting at LOL) Me? Self-indulging like there's no tomorrow? Yeah, basically.  
>  Also, note: I don’t know how many guestrooms Regina has. Let’s say they are two, because it’s convenient for me LOL.  
>  Title from "The Rockrose and the Thistle" by The Amazing Devil because I am obsessed with them.  
>  Enjoy!

Emma isn’t sure how long she hovers there, her hand lingering on the doorframe and her mouth half-open in search for a decent opening, but it’s definitely beyond decency and it makes the fact that Neal has not yet noticed her slightly alarming.

“Hey,” she eventually calls, because she can’t exactly keep staring at him fixing up the sheets forever. They are in Regina’s house, making use of her two guestrooms, because Henry didn’t seem very eager to let go of any of them after the whole Pan disaster, they honestly shared the sentiment, Neal doesn’t really have a house anyway and, considering that Mary Margaret was busy trying to console Belle, the loft is going to be pretty crowded anyway. It was the best solution.

Neal jumps a little, half-bent over the bed, but when he turns towards her he offers a smile of acknowledgement.

“Regina’s in her room,” she informs him, taking a few careful steps in his direction. “Henry’s in his—”

“And you’re in mine,” he completes, lightly. It doesn’t sound annoyed, so that’s a good sign, at least. “Is something wrong?”

“Uh, no, I just wanted to—to see if you needed—help—changing the sheets—”

_Changing the sheets, Emma? Seriously?_

The look of amusement on his face says pretty much the same thing that flashed through her head a moment after the excuse left her mouth.

“No, I’m all set,” he assures, sitting on the edge of the bed and offering a very broad smile that looks mildly hysterical if you ask her. Kind of like those manic grins that he had on his face on the mornings after not sleeping a wink because of the nightmares that she graciously never asked about.

“Okay,” she says, slowly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I just wanted to check on you—”

“I’ve lived in an actual apartment for years, my housekeeping skills have improved, I promise,” he jokes.

Emma rolls her eyes.

Okay, time to be an adult here.

“I wasn’t talking about the sheets, and you know it,” she says, gently, taking a few more steps forward and waiting for him to gesture to go ahead before sitting beside him.

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbles. “Still, I’m fine. It’s been a long day, you should get some sleep.”

“I’m pretty sure your day has been longer than mine and that you are _not_ going to get any sleep,” she says, readily. He gives her a mildly pleading ‘can we not’ look, but she elects to ignore it. “Look, I know you’d probably rather chew your arm off than talk about it—” He acknowledges the comment with a snort. “— _so_ I’m just gonna—sit here, and give you a hug, okay?”

She barely waits for him to answer with a mildly confused and surprised expression before she pulls him forward, probably strangling him a bit as soon as she’s got a solid hold on him, but since it only takes him a few seconds to repay the favour she guesses he doesn’t mind much.

“I’m sorry,” she gets out, unsure of what else to say, as she rubs his back in an attempt at offering some extra comfort.

“You said that already,” he mutters against her shoulder.

“Yeah, I know.”

Since right after Gold died, she’s been able of coming up with literally nothing but platitudes, which is _frustrating_ to say the least. She wants to help, she really, _really_ does.

She’d just watched him reunite with his dad, he seemed so happy, and for a second she thought—she dared hoping that things were taking a turn for the better, that between her finding her parents, Henry being alright, Gold being on their side—David even talked her into taking the plunge and accepting Neal’s offer to get lunch, for god’s sake. Of course the minute things seemed to go well the other shoe had to drop.

She figures they got away with little damage, thanks to Gold. Pan is gone, they are not cursed, no one was hurt— _almost_ no one.

Neal and Belle got the short end of the stick here, and she hates that she can do nothing about it.

Maybe all that talk about being the Savior got a little bit to her head too, because it feels—it kinda feels like she’s responsible for this, a little. Like _she_ should have been able to save the day and stop _anyone_ from getting hurt. She did think that something was wrong with Henry, didn’t she? If she’d just—

Neal draws in a deep breath, shifting a little as if to adjust his grip on her, and it slams her back to reality, where this isn’t about her and she has more important things to worry about than her developing hero complex.

She just—she just needs to get him to let it out. Which is a _feat_ , because he just doesn’t _do_ that, not in her experience. He withdraws when hurt, swallows it, and pretends like it’s fine until it goes away. He may accept a hug or two, but that’s the extent of it.

She simply doesn’t think that that is going to be _enough_ now, because so much shit has happened and he’s literally _shaking_ in her arms.

“Okay, look,” she says, her voice a little strained and her eyes burning insistently. “Your fiancée shot you and you almost died, we all had to take a trip to Neverland The Horror Island because our kid got kidnapped, we thought we’d lost him for a solid minute, Peter Pan almost cursed us all and your dad just died, it’s been a shitty week and if you don’t have a good cry about it I’m going to have to do it for you, and you know I hate crying, so don’t make me, alright?”

Wow, it’s even _worse_ when she lays it out like that.

He snorts, burying his face deeper into her shoulder for a moment, and she grins a little too, because, well, when things suck it’s either that or crying, and we’ve established that she hates doing that.

It takes a few moments for him to answer, long enough that Emma is beginning to consider if she should insist or just leave him be or _actually_ start crying.

“You know,” he says then, his voice low. “For a second there I really thought we’d be fine. Like—after all this, I got my papa back, the _real_ one, you know—” His voice breaks before he has even completed the sentence, and then Emma can only hold on tighter onto him as he starts sobbing.

She’s pretty sure she can hear the sound of her heart breaking, but she keeps the sympathetic tears in and works through the lump in her throat enough to attempt to shush him – which only makes him cry harder, but that’s alright, who knows how many years’ worth of tears he’s letting out now.

She doesn’t dare moving, as if afraid to spook him, and she only tenses slightly when she sees Regina walking down the corridor, stopping for a moment at the door when she catches sight of them. Emma isn’t sure if she managed to convey a ‘please, go’ with her eyes or if Regina simply read the room, but she’s gone in a matter of seconds, without a sound.

Eventually, after an infinite stretch of time, Neal starts breathing more evenly, feeling limp against her until he pushes himself to sit straighter.

“Sorry,” he sniffles, pulling back and avoiding her gaze. He looks like a complete mess, eyes red and puffy, cheeks flushed and wet, and it takes a big effort not to pull him right back into a hug.

She doesn’t completely let go of him anyway, her thumbs still stroking his arms. “No apologies,” she reprimands, gently. “You should get some sleep, though.”

“Uh, yeah,” he mumbles, passing a hand over his face to try and wipe away the tears. It’s only mildly successful. “Probably.”

Emma hesitates. “Would you—do you want me to stay?” she asks, tentatively, bracing for rejection.

“You don’t have to—”

Yeah, figures. “I’m offering,” she points out. “I’m offering, and asking if you want me to. That’s all.”

She isn’t sure with what strength of will she’d leave him alone after all this, if he asked. She remembers him as such a comforting presence, such a welcome break from loneliness and rejection, that the thought of leaving him there like _that_ makes her sick.

He glances at her for a moment before his eyes fall to the ground. He gives a brief nod, which is probably the most that she’s going to get. She has no intention of complaining.

“Okay, then,” she says, waiting until he looks up to her to offer what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “Let’s get settled.”

She lays down on her back, letting him curl up at her side and wrapping her arm around him, mindlessly running her fingers through his hair, the way she used to do a lifetime ago.

She takes a steadying breath, her stomach in knots and her chest heavy, tears pushing behind her eyes, because they tend to be inconvenient like that.

“Wake me up if you need me, okay?” she says, softly, to which she gets a hum that’s barely an acknowledgement and definitely not a yes, and a strained ‘good night’ that makes her think he’s _this_ close to going for another round.

She elects to stay awake until she’s sure that he’s fallen asleep and won’t spend the whole night suffering in silence.

She awakes a little over an hour later, not sure if she’s made good on her silent vow but finding that Neal at least seems to be asleep. So is her arm. It’s dead to the world, actually.

She considers ignoring it and trying to fall back into sleep without moving, but there’s a sharp pain behind her eyes, and her throat is _horribly_ dry, she’s never been good at just lying motionlessly for hours to no end, and Neal is already going to wake up feeling like shit tomorrow, there is no need to make him feel guilty over keeping her awake all night too.

She’ll slip out, get some water, get back in bed. Hopefully he won’t wake up and think that she bailed as soon as he fell asleep.

She manages to extract herself from the bed without disturbing him, taking a few controlled steps to the door and slowly closing it behind her, so that she can turn on the light in the unfamiliar corridor and not get herself killed on the way down to the kitchen.

She finds Regina at the table, sitting with a glass at hand, full of something that probably contains the appropriate amount of alcohol for the day they’ve had.

“Is everything alright?” Emma asks, in lieu of a greeting, stupid as that question may be.

Regina shrugs. “I couldn’t sleep.” She raises her glass. “I got myself a drink. Or two. Do you want any?”

Emma actually considers it, because it’s _tempting_ , but she’d rather scoot back into Neal’s room as soon as possible. “I’ll just take the water,” she says, gesturing to a second bottle and grabbing a glass for herself.

After gulping that down, she feels a little less dead on her feet, and she pulls out a chair, under Regina’s heavy gaze. She can keep her company for a few minutes.

“Is Neal asleep?” she asks, her tone careful but not really uninterested.

“Yeah,” Emma says, slowly. “Henry?”

“He’s fine.”

Emma went to say goodnight before heading to Neal. He seemed a little shaken, but nothing too concerning or unexpected. She trusts him to run to one of them should he need help, though that doesn’t really do much to ease the worry twisting her stomach. He’s been through so much, through a lot more than a child should ever have to.

Regina keeps her lips pressed into a thin line, playing with her empty glass and staring at it like it has deeply wronged her. Emma doesn’t presume to know her _that_ well, but it’s pretty obvious that she’s not unaffected by what happened, and she and Gold always seemed pretty familiar with each other.

“So,” she begins asking, because she can’t help herself. “How are you—I mean, you and Gold were—”

She might have said _friends_ , unsure of what word to use, but Regina interrupts her.

“Weird and complicated,” she says, drily, waving a dismissing hand.

Emma snorts, feeling the beginnings of a grin twisting her lips. “Does weird and complicated need a hug too?” she asks, only half-jokingly.

Regina gives her a mildly amused and definitely a bit patronizing look. “I’ll get over it,” she assures.

Eventually, Emma heads back to Neal’s room, taking a glass of water with her because he’ll probably need it when he wakes up. She manages to set it on his nightstand and get back into bed before she realizes that he’s already awake.

“Oh, hey,” she says, taken aback. “I’m sorry, I thought I’d managed not to wake you up.”

“It’s fine,” he answers, readily. His voice sounds very thin and hoarse, and it makes her want to curl protectively all around him.

Instead, she swallows, reaching out to brush some hair off his face. Given that it’s pretty dark, it’s a miracle that she makes out enough of his shape to avoid poking him in the eye, but he leans into it, so it was probably a risk worth taking.

“Well, you should drink that water and get back to sleep,” she says, patting him lightly on the shoulder as encouragement.

He huffs, amused, but he rolls over, pushes himself up and complies.

When he settles back down, it’s on his side, with his back on her, and she can’t help wondering if that’s supposed to be an invitation.

“Can I come closer?” she asks, just in case.

“If you want,” comes the answer, after a few beats of silence.

Emma presses herself against his back, wrapping her arm around him and pushing herself up to rest her chin on his head.

“Okay?” she breathes out, a little tense still.

He just says ‘thank you’, with barely any voice to it and sounding a little like he might just start crying again, and that only breaks her heart a little more, making her bolder, until she’s holding him tighter and pulling him closer.

 _It’s okay, I’ve got you_ , she doesn’t say, laying a kiss on his head and curling her fingers around a handful of his shirt. _I’ll take care of you_ , she vows, laced with enough stubbornness that, she’s pretty sure, not even another curse could tear her away.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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